


Hunting For Love (Killing For Pleasure)

by BloodMoonWitch



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Body Worship, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magic works however I say it works, Other, Smut, So basically, cause I mean come on, close enough, while riding his dick, you fuck Muriel with magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodMoonWitch/pseuds/BloodMoonWitch
Summary: It’s weird seeing Muriel without his old collar. It’s a good kind of weird.But he looks stunning in the one you bought him.(Title from the song Animal by Aurora)





	Hunting For Love (Killing For Pleasure)

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a collar fic but that quickly morphed into me just worshiping this man for five thousand words. I just let my emotions take the wheel and this is the mess that became of it.
> 
> I didn’t edit this nearly enough times so please, Grammar Gods of Old, have mercy. I just wanted to shove this out here before I have to lock myself away and study for heckin physics that’s trying to kill me.

It was weird to see Muriel without his old collar, but a good kind of weird. He was free, free from his past and all that hurt him, though it may still haunt him sometimes. He no longer constantly felt that weight on his soul, and I could tell that he was happier because of it.

“It feels strange, sometimes,” he admitted to me one night, the two of us snuggled under a blanket by the fire, me in his lap with my head on his chest and his arms framing me. “I used to have it on all the time, but now . . .” He rubbed his neck, almost uncomfortably, like he feels naked without something being there.

I think for a moment, particularly about Asra’s birthday gift to Julian last year, and try to contain my excitement as I bring it up to Muriel.

“I could buy you a new one. Not one as big, obviously, just something . . . dainty,” I said, running my hand along his muscular neck and shoulders, imagining how stunning he would look with a tiny little golden collar to contrast the rest of his thick and masculine features. “And pretty.” I looked up at him through my lashes, intentionally making my gaze as sultry as possible and relishing in the blush I got in return. He bit his lip, not quite meeting my eyes but not really avoiding them as he thought about what I had said. He looked conflicted, but there was a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes.

“You could wear it whenever you wanted to. I wouldn’t force you to keep it on, but if it’s something that you think you might be interested in . . .” Pressing a kiss to his neck right where I imagined a collar might sit, I wrapped my hand around the other side of his neck, applying only a little pressure to let him imagine with me what it might feel like. His breath hitched, and I could feel the tremble run through his body as he nodded his head, his hands tightening their grip on me, one on my outer thigh and another wrapped around my waist.

I waisted no time in heading into town the next morning, kissing goodbye a still half asleep and grumbling Muriel as I had to climb over him to get out of bed. Going to Asra first seemed like a good idea as he would probably know more about the best shops for the certain type of thing I was looking for. He smirked when I asked him about it, demanding more details that I refused to give him because I knew Muriel would never forgive me. Eventually, he sighed and gave up, writing down an address for me to hunt down later after we had breakfast and tea. Asra wouldn’t let up on why exactly I was looking for an _adult_ shop the whole while, bugging me right up until I closed the door in his face.

~ - ~

I was torn between three very similar collars. Two were silver, one with a small green gem embedded in the front and hooking closed in the back, intricate swirls of vines and flowers detailed in the metal, and the other was simpler, two spiraled vines embedded in the metal wrapping around it and closing in a loop in the front. The gold one was almost identical to the one with the green gem, but this one hooked in the front and was just solid gold.

They were all roughly the same height, a centimeter or so, and they seemed to have a large range if sizes to choose from. But most importantly, they were thin enough that I knew he could break out of them if he needed to. I never wanted him to feel trapped.

“Do you have any questions?” The petite, kind eyed woman behind the counter asked. She must have seen me struggling.

“I just can’t decide,” I admitted, and she gave me a knowing smile.

“Why don’t you tell me about the person you’re buying for? What are they like?”

“Well, he’s rather shy, quiet and gentle. I don’t think he’d like any of those,” I said, vaguely waving my hand behind her to the large selection of thick leather collars decorated with everything from spikes to metal lettering of phrases like _Daddy’s Girl_, which looked oddly similar to Asra’s gift to Julian, and other things that I’m sure would make Muriel uncomfortable.

“He’s new to all this then?” I nodded, and her eyes search my face for a moment. “But you’re not.” I can’t help but grin with her. “Alright, so in my opinion, anything with ornaments might be too much, so the gems probably won’t do. And this one,” she picked up the simpler of the silver ones, “is almost too feminine. I’m guessing that’s not something you want to dip your toes into yet, so I’d go for this one.” She handed me the gold one. “It’s simple and can be worn with the hook at the front of the neck in case he starts getting uncomfortable and needs to take it off quickly. It also can be customized in a number of ways, including lining the inside in a softer material like velvet or some type of fur if you would like.”

I must have spent hours in that store discussing exactly what I wanted with the nice lady. Walking home, I smiled down at myself, letting my hand run along the collar I couldn’t help but buy for myself. It was the silver one with the green stone. The darned thing reminded me too much of Muriel’s eyes, and though I wore it more like a piece of jewelry, part of me was on fire at the thought of Muriel and I wearing them together. I wondered if he would ever be brave enough to wear his out in public with me.

Finally, I walked through the door of Muriel’s hut and found him sitting with Inanna on the floor by his bed, carving away at a small lump of wood. I don’t know how, but he seemed to immediately know what was in the little black bag I was carrying, a blush blooming across his cheeks and down his neck. When his eyes caught on my throat and the ring of metal he saw there, I could almost hear his breath shutter. He didn’t move an inch as I moved closer to him and place his bag on the bed beside him. He didn’t seam tense or uneasy, but his lips twitched every now and then, and his eyebrows pulled together like he was unsure of what to do with himself.

I extend my hands out to him, and he takes them eagerly, standing up in front of me looking down at me with big, green doe eyes like I’m his lifeline, like he’ll do anything I ask of him, like he needs me to tell him what to do. Pulling him around so that I can sit on the bed, I expect him to come and sit beside me, but he just slowly drops to his knees in front of me, his blush reaching all the way to the tips of his ears by this point.

Muriel had always been the more submissive one. It took a bit of cuddling and encouragement, but eventually he explained to me that when I set up a scene for us, he felt that he could relax and just fall into the part and enjoy himself. He said he never felt embarrassed or unsafe as long as I was there to guide him.

Now, he looked absolutely desperate, leaning heavily into my touch as I reached a hand out to hold his cheek.

“I got you a gift today,” I said, but my words didn’t want to come out as anything more than a breathy whisper. Seeing him like this always did something to me. It was like I was overwhelmed with the desire to praise and comfort him, to hold him in my arms and make him feel safe and loved. I hoped that this collar would help me do that. Reaching into the bag, I pull out the collar that the nice lady in the shop had wrapped in dark green paper. I set the package down on my lap, but Muriel just stared at it, eyes wide and intrigued. A laugh bubbled up in my throat, but I bit it back. He was just too adorable sometimes. After I was sure that he wasn’t going to open it himself, I reached down and tore away the paper for him.

It’s obviously not what he expected. His eyes traced over every inch of it, gold and short dark brown fur softer than almost anything I’d ever felt, before he looked back to me. I’m comforted to see that there’s no fear in his eyes, and that the uncertainty is quickly fading away. My hand moved back to caress his face, and he looked back at the collar on my other hand. Though I would never stop touching him if I could, I have to use both hands to unhook the latch of the collar.

“Is this alright?” I asked quietly. He enthusiastically nodded his head, and his eyes never left my hands as I slowly inched them closer to his neck. I let the collar fall over my hand to hang on my wrist so that the first touch he felt was my hands on his skin. Massaging his neck and shoulders lightly, he melted into my hands, his eyes closing as his breathing calmed a little. “Okay?” I asked him one last time, and I was grateful for his mumbled _yes_.

I will admit, that I was probably more nervous than Muriel. This was uncharted waters. The last thing I wanted to do was throw him back to a time where he was chained down and forced to do unimaginable things, but he looked so relaxed, so trusting of me to take care of him.

He was perfectly still and calm as I fitted the collar around his neck, gently pulling his hair up out of the way, and latching it closed in the front. It fit perfectly around the center of his neck, a little loose so that it wasn’t too uncomfortable for him, but gods, I was right.

He looked fucking _beautiful_.

I was oddly glad that he’d kept his eyes closed, because just the thought of him looking up at me right now almost made me burst into flames. He was the perfect image of submission, his head tilted down and slightly to one side, eyes closed, lips parted slightly, his entire body loose and trusting, kneeling practically shirtless in front of me like such a _good boy_. I couldn’t handle it, I needed him too badly.

My hand ran through his hair, gently nudging his head upwards so that I could kiss him, and I get the briefest glance at his dazed and hooded eyes staring up at me with so much love that it almost hurts. I can’t kiss him with much more force than a drop of snow falling to the ground, he feels too delicate in my arms, and his hands come up and gently grasp my hips.

I pulled a whine from him as I nipped at his bottom lip and tugged softly on his hair, and I struggled to hold back a groan when I pulled away and saw him, lips red and wet, breathing heavy and shaky, and he finally opened his eyes all the way so that in could stare into them. It was terrible that we hadn’t done much else than kiss each other, yet my head was spinning with the unbearable amount of arousal this sweet man was inflicting upon me. I had to devour him, so I sloppily kissed everywhere I could reach, all across his blushing cheeks and down his neck. I let my other hand massage down his chest, absolutely loving the moan he gave me when I ran my thumb haphazardly over his nipple. His skin was hot under my touch, and so addictive that I swore I would never stop touching and kissing and gently bitting, which he seemed to love when I nibbled at the skin just above his collar, a soft fluttering moan falling from his lips.

“Talk to me, angel,” I breathed, my mouth kissing bellow his ear, and he shuddered at my words. He denied it, but I knew that the quickest way to get him to slip even further was through the various pet names and endearing terms I would always call him. There was one I had never used before, but with the addition of a collar, I was so very close to letting _my good boy_ slip out. “Tell me how you feel.” I knew it was unlikely he would say much, but I needed to check in with him to make sure that he still wanted this, that he was still alright.

My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach when I pulled back and saw tears in his eyes.

“Muriel-” I gasped, quickly pulling back and holding his face in my hands. It wasn’t little tears either. Streaks of them rolled down his cheeks from eyes squeezed shut, his bottom lip trembling and chest shaking as he tried to keep his breath steady. _Shit_. I had hurt him. I had pushed too far. I was less than a second away from ripping off that collar and pulling him into my arms when he stopped me, one of his hands coming to wrap almost protectively around his neck.

“Green,” he whispered through a fragile breath, and though part of me still doubted, I was proud that he had remembered his safe words. I waited for him to calm down again, but he didn’t. The tears kept flowing down his face, and I couldn’t keep a few of of my own from falling. I felt . . . terrified. Anxious and unsure. What was he thinking? What had I done? Why wouldn’t he tell me to stop? Why won’t he open his eyes and look at me?

Finally, after a few infinite minutes, he spoke through his tears and unsteady breaths.

“I want this,” he sighed, emphasizing his words by tightening his grip on his neck slightly. “I want . . . I want to belong to you.” His eyes opened, and I had to let out the breath I’d been holding when I didn’t see any fear or pain in them. “I want to be yours . . . Please . . .” His voice was desperate and needy, and I had to stop myself from falling forward when I went to wrap my arms around him.

“Whatever you want,” I said, only relaxing again when his arms wrap around me and I think I finally can feel his breathing even out. “I’ll take care of you.” He whimpers against my shoulder, and in a flurry of motion, I manage to pull him up onto the bed.

I was perched over him, one hand beside his head to hold me up and the other still holding his cheek as I kissed him over and over. His hands were clinging to the back of my shirt, keeping me pressed as close to him as possible, and he pulled away only let out the most delicious, breathy moan as I rubbed my thigh against his growing erection.

I wanted to give him everything, to let him feel how much I loved him across his entire body, so I started at his neck, my hand moving down to trail lightly over his chest. I traced over the path of little marks and bruises I had left before, letting my mouth do whatever it felt like across his skin. He shivered under me, whimpering and groaning as hands tightening their grip on my back, only growing louder once I moved my mouth down to join my hand. Teasing him, I kissed all around his pecks, purposely avoiding that surprisingly sensitive spot that I knew he was silently begging me to touch.

“Strip for me,” I whispered against his skin, not really a command, but he definitely acted like it was. Quicker than my eyes could follow, and without displacing me an inch from where I was hanging over him, he yanked his pants off and threw his scarf somewhere to be found later. Removing my own clothes is the last thing on my mind, especially when I’ve just been given so much new skin to adore. He had closed his eyes a while ago, and though part of me was tempted to demand that he opened them and watched me pleasure him, I decided that I’d had enough of teasing him for now. That really wasn’t what I wanted this to be about.

I dragged my tongue across his nipple, a thrill running through my body when Muriel moaned loudly and bucked his hips against my leg. I don’t want him to have to beg for anything, I just want to give him all that I had. Pulling the bud into my mouth, I make sure to keep every touch and flick of my tongue as gentle and loving as possible, just enough to still satisfying him and giving him what he needs. I give the same treatment to his other nipple, and my hands wont stop moving all over his chest, hungry for more of those beautiful sounds, sliding as low as his pelvis before dragging back up. I love the feeling of his soft yet firm skin beneath my lips as I kiss everywhere my hands had been.

It doesn’t take much thought to know what I want to do to him, gathering my magic into thin tendrils and letting them run across his skin with my lips and hands. He gasps at the new sensation, but that sound quickly morphed into a broken moan when he felt one of them dance around his entrance.

“Do you want this?” I asked, punctuating the question with a slightly harder rub against his hole, not yet pushing in. Without hesitation, he nodded his head, but that won’t do. Even if it was just for my own sanity, to know that I wasn’t not pushing him too far, I needed to hear him say it. “I need you to talk to me, my darling.”

“Yes,” he exhaled out after a few moments. His face contorting in pleasure as he writhed a little beneath me, skin flushed and bruised all over. “Please-” I can’t wait for him to finish, slowly pushing into him with my magic. He’s cut off by his own moan, definitely much louder than both he and I expected, and when he bit his lip, a deeper blush spreading across his skin, I couldn’t help but let out a little keen of my own. I surged up to kiss him, needing to feel his lips against mine. Muriel took advantage of me being closer to him again, his hands sliding up under my shirt and pulling it off.

Oh, how could I forget out wonderful it felt to press myself against him like this, with nothing separating us? My pants quickly followed, and I spent an embarrassingly long time just enjoying the feel of him and the little moans and whines he let out as I continued to work into him, the little bit of magic inside of him growing wider and wider, pulsing and pressing against every sweet spot I knew.

I could feel him getting close, between the friction of my thigh against his erection and the steady pumping of my magic into him, he wouldn’t last much longer. His arms was tightening around my shoulders, holding me close to him, and I lazily moved my mouth from his to find new places to kiss and suck along his neck. He was so sensitive there, breath faltering with the lightest of touches, but it’s when my lips meet metal that I suddenly remember what started this all.

Pulling back, I tried not to give in to his desperate whimper, arms weakly attempting to bring me back to him, and I knew exactly what he needs, that little bit extra to push him over the edge. I slid down his body, finally wrapping my hand around his throbbing cock. Sparing one look up at him, at his gaping mouth and eyes fluttering open to look down at me, I can’t help but let it slip out.

“My good boy . . .” Even as I said it, my lips grazed the tip of him, and I quickly took as much of him as I could into my mouth, moaning when I felt him hit the back of my throat.

He should not be capable of the absolutely sinful noise he let out. It’s somewhere between a scream and whine, and his hips jerk uncontrollably as he comes down my throat, knuckles going white from how tightly he gripped the blanket beneath him. I stay filled with him for as long as I can, my vision blurring and lungs burning for air, but I don’t want to waste a single drop of him. Eventually, I had to come up with a gasp, and I moved back up to hold Muriel tightly against me. His breath was ragged against my shoulder as he buried his head there, arms shakily coming up to lay across my back. One thing I had discovered about him very quickly was that, sometimes, he just needed to be held, to hide in my arms for a little while so he could calm himself. I also learned that I desperately loved holding him.

But I was far from finished with him yet. 

Something in him must have known this, because he wasn’t the least bit surprised when I started slowly pumping into him again. He let out the softest moan against my skin, and I just had to look at him. I leaned back, straddling his abdomen and keeping one hand soothingly pressed to his cheek, watching his face. Sweat was causing his hair to stick to his forehead, lust and love swirling in his barely open eyes, but he still looked so relaxed, satisfied after his first release but swiftly climbing towards a second.

He was perfect.

Everything about him was big and muscular and strong, but I saw none of that beneath me. He looked so . . . small. Clinging to me, sweaty and still lightly panting, that usually stoic face beautifully displaying every emotion in the trembling of his bottom lip and scrunching of his brow. And that collar. Somehow, it didn’t make him look trapped or restrained, like a pet or slave. Gold wrapped around stunningly tanned skin, drops of sweat occasionally running over it, suited him too well. I wondered for a moment what he might look like dressed in nothing but thin golden bands, intricate designs wrapping around his entire body.

I shouldn’t have let my thoughts run off, because soon Muriel lets out a hushed cry, digging his fingers into my hair to press my forehead fiercely against his. Apparently, I had begun pounding into him again, and I surprised myself when I reached down to feel that his hole was spread wide enough that three of my fingers slid in easily with plenty of room to wiggle. He dragged in a deep, shaky breath at the feeling of my fingers inside of him, finally something tangible instead of the pulsing flow of magic.

He muttered my name, deep, rumbling, and desperate voice, and how I wish I could keep him like this forever. Some things were the same outside of these little moments, like his deep blush and shy eyes, but those noises, the way he bit his lip to keep them back, how he looked so weightless and free because he didn’t need to worry about anything, that’s what I never wanted to see end. Sadly, my poor boy could only handle so much, though it still pained me to remove my fingers from him and focus on spreading myself open for him, using a bit of the same magic to make the glide easier. He wined at the loss of the feeling inside of him, so to make up for it, I widen the magic again, leaning down to kiss and suck all over his chest. The noise he lets out is almost grateful, his legs falling open and spreading wide behind me, the hand in my hair slipping away to grasp at my waist.

For the first time, I allowed myself to acknowledge my own arousal. That deep ache in me that had been satisfied to simple watch him in his pleasure was now begging for more, barely content with just the fingers I had worked inside of me. I should probably have spent more time opening myself up, but I just couldn’t wait any longer.

“Look at me,” I begged him, moving up again so that I was hovering my entrance just above him.

Gods, there’s no words for what I see in his eyes other than _pure devotion_, and I’m taken aback for a moment. I knew that he loved me, that we would do anything and everything for each other, but this felt like something more. I felt connected to him in a way that I never had before, like he was pouring out all of the love he had in his heart, but it wasn’t just that either. He was giving me _everything_. I felt his love and happiness the most, but beneath that, there was pain, sorrow, helplessness and hopelessness, all of his past, his scars, everything that he was. He wasn’t hiding, from me or himself. He was free.

I sink down onto him, probably too quickly, but I pushed down through the twinge of pain because he just won’t stop looking at me like that. My eyes never leave his, and even when he can’t stand it anymore and throws his head back and cries out in pleasure, I still watch him. I must have made some sort of noise, some heated moan or groan as I plunged down into him, but I can’t seem to focus on anything but him.

For a moment, it felt like we are both animals, some primal instinct taking over and guiding my body to move on top of him. Our hands ran all over each other, touching and feeling and grasping and holding and _loving_.

I physically ached for release, and through his desperate haze, he somehow managed to reach out a shaky hand to touch me, sending a shiver running down my spine.

“Muriel,” I moaned, and his eyes immediately darted open and seek out mine. There’s a second where everything felt like its too much, my magic uncontrollably vibrating in the air around us letting me feel every ounce of his pleasure and the feeling of being filling with him again and again, nudging something deep inside of me. Though I wasn’t seeking it, my orgasm comes all the same, and I cried out as I clenched around him, my hips only stopping for a second before picking up the pace again as if they had a mission of their own. Muriel watched me through hooded, lust filled eyes, the hand still on my thigh occasionally tightening its grasp when I pressed deeper inside of him or fucked myself onto him a bit faster.

“You’re such a good boy,” I said, and he let out an almost pained noise, the tears coming back to his eyes. They didn’t frighten me this time, because I could see behind them to the unwavering amount of love and trust. I tried to keep my pace even, though I was becoming more sensitive and sore each time I fell down onto him. The praises just kept falling from my lips, and why should I stop saying them when every word has Muriel arching his back or jerking his hips up. “You’re so beautiful, so good for me . . . Gods, I love you Muriel.” He knew that I did, yet the words seemed to set off something in him, and with a hitch of his breath and a short cry, his hands flew up to grab my waist, holding me still as he spilled into me.

“Good boy,” I breathed, and he whimpered softly as he threw his head to the side, his mouth falling open and eyebrows pulling together. Lazily, I lifted up off of him, letting my magic dissipate slowly from within him so I wouldn’t overwhelm him. He still groaned at the loss, gently tugging me down to him.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and let him cling to me, gently turning us so that we lay on our sides. I felt a few stray tears fall on my chest from where Muriel’s head was tucked under my chin, and I just continued running my hands along his skin, untangling his sweaty hair, comforting him and helping him to come back down to earth. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself this time to recover, some days I practically had to hold him down and _forcefully encourage _him to relax a bit. Though this one was simpler and almost innocent, if such things could ever be, our scenes could get pretty . . . intense for him, and though in the moment, Muriel couldn’t want anything more, wether or not he would let me help him come down after was always an uncertainty. Sometimes he would cry, like he was now, because of how much he felt, and it was usually times like these where he would let me hold him. But ever once in a while, he would come up too quickly, allowing negative thoughts to cloud his mind and make him panic. He needed me most, then, even though he would try to push me away and tell me that he was fine.

So I always cherished the moments like this, when I could be with him after and hold him, comfort him, and let him just _feel_. I would stay with him like this forever if I could, but I needed to take care of him in other ways too. Sitting up just a bit, not really surprised when his head just fell sleepily onto the pillow with a small frown, I reached across the room and used a bit of magic to float a warm towel and a glass of water over to us.

I helped him to sit up and take a few sips, his eyes still closed and muscles relaxed to almost the point of jello, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. He flopped back down onto the bed, nearly spilling the glass as he yanks me down with him. I send the glass back to the table and pick up the towel, gently running it across his shoulders and back. He let out a content groan, the tears long gone, and snuggled closer to me as I massaged whatever I could reach.

“Where are you, my love?” Was he still floating up somewhere where the world was far bellow? Or was he drifting back to me? I would ask him this if he seemed particularly far away, like a sort of landline for him to grab onto.

“Here,” he mumbled, pulling me closer to him as if to prove his point. I couldn’t see his face, but his body looks relaxed and at ease. I settled against him, enjoying his warmth and the occasional kiss he sleepily pressed against my chest. His hand on the back of my neck startles me a bit, light fingers running along the collar I forgot I was wearing. “I like this . . . ‘s pretty.”

“You’re pretty too,” I whispered, and I think he was too tired to fully understand what I had said because he just smiled softly and kissed my collarbone. He felt small in my arms, and it was easy to imagine that he wasn’t quite as large and muscular as he actually was with my arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and his body curled up as tightly as he could manage against mine. 

_My good boy. _

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at endings but what’s new, ya know?


End file.
